


Practical Application

by printers_devil



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Multi, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rape, Threesome - F/F/M, Victim Used As Bargaining Chip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printers_devil/pseuds/printers_devil
Summary: After Halamshiral, Leliana thinks of a better use for the Herald of Andraste. Her fellow advisers have differing opinions, but anyone can be convinced of anything, with the right incentive.A much-belated treat for Nonconathon 2018.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Leliana (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Leliana/Josephine Montilyet/Cullen Rutherford, Leliana/Josephine Montilyet, Leliana/Josephine Montilyet/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34
Collections: Nonconathon 2018





	Practical Application

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kmfillz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmfillz/gifts).



> this is a bit out of nowhere, but I was looking at old nonconathon prompts for inspiration a few weeks ago and this one seized my imagination and wouldn't let go: "The Herald has only one particular skill (closing rifts) but a lot of symbolic value. Maybe the Inquisition's advisors find more uses for her...
> 
> The advisors can be enthusiastic about the rape, or they can be reluctant. But ultimately, they are for it, the Inquisitor is against it, and their decision overrules hers." 
> 
> So, two years after the close of the exchange round in question... here we are

It would have been easier, Leliana thought, reviewing approximately the nine-thousandth report over her desk about how the Herald's latest detour had cost the Inquisition time and resources—it would have been easier if the Herald of Andraste had come to them in the form of a child, or an imbecile. Either would have been easier to control, and more useful, to boot. 

As it was, Inquisitor Lavellan, Her Worship, Herald of Andraste, was a healer. Sweet-natured, gentle, and incapable of any magic beyond the near-miraculous setting of bones, stopping of bleeding, repair of organs and viscera, diagnosis of growths in the body well before they became dangerous, and the curing of any and all poisonings. 

Her skill was tremendous—even Madame Vivienne had agreed to Leliana that there were few that could match her, and at only twenty-two!—and it helped to bolster her legend when she walked among the wounded and the dying and brought them back from the brink. That much was undeniable. 

But all other magics were beyond her. She could shoot sparks from her fingertips, light candles, and close rifts. Nothing more. She could not defend herself in a fight, and worst of all, did not realize she could not defend herself. The complement of soldiers and scouts that Leliana and Cullen had to send along with her in the field was tremendous and expensive. 

But, praise the Maker, at long last they had called her back to Skyhold from the Maker-forsaken corner of Fereldan she'd been rooting around in. Josephine had received their invitations to the Winter Palace from Duke Gaspard, and the three of them could keep an eye on the Inquisitor, rather than relying on their subordinates to do it. 

\- - -

And Halamshiral went quite smoothly, never mind the Inquisitor's very obvious sneaking about the Winter Palace. The Iron Bull, and Vivienne, and Varric all saw her safe and sound. Florianne de Chalons was dead. Gaspard was in chains. Briala was humiliated. Celene ruled alone. It was not what Leliana wanted, but it was _a_ peace, and that was better than no peace.

\- - - 

"There is one more thing," Josephine said when they were back in their guest suite, clearing her throat. Their surroundings were opulent; the Orlesian lion glared down at them from every spare surface. "One more term," Josie went on. "A... personal request, from the Empress."

"Let's hear it, then," Cullen said, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. The Inquisitor, too, looked exhausted. But Leliana knew this tone from Josephine, and knew that clearing of the throat, and therefore knew that whatever came out of her mouth next would be wretched. 

"Celene would like a private audience with the Inquisitor," said Josephine. "Tonight."

Ah. Leliana's blood ran cold.

"Are you sure it can't happen in the morning?" the Inquisitor complained. She whined, really; she was so young. "I'm _tired._ I danced so much. Dorian broke his arm in three places fighting Florianne, and he wanted me to heal it completely, not just set it. You'd think a fellow mage would know how draining that is, but he griped and griped—" 

"I'm sure it will not take long, your worship," Leliana said, meeting Josephine's eyes over the top of Lavellan's head. 

From the overstuffed golden armchair where he sat, Cullen glanced between the two of them and frowned, suddenly. He had worked with them long enough to know when something was terribly wrong. 

"She was quite insistent," Josephine said. There was an edge of desperation to her voice. She went over to one of the cut crystal vases strewn around the room and plucked a lily from it, twirling it in her fingers. "She wishes to thank the Inquisitor for saving her life, and to discuss the form in which Orlais's support of the Inquisition will take." 

"But you do all that, right, Josie?" Lavellan said. "The discussing? All I do is"--she waved her marked hand, which glowed through the thick brown leather of her glove--"with the rifts. And put my name on the papers. And give the speeches." 

"The empress was so terribly impressed by you tonight," Josephine replied, saccharine. She put the flower back in its vase. It made Leliana feel ill to hear her like this, the gentle wheedling tone in her voice. "She thought your dancing with Florianne was lovely, and you did so well at keeping the Iron Bull on his feet when he was wounded. The whole court saw." 

Josephine walked in a circle around the Inquisitor, and put her hands on her slender shoulders. Only when she was out of the Lavellan's sight did her face sag, and the horror of what she was sending the Inquisitor into. But her tone was light, when she said, "It's very important that you please the Imperial Majesty. You mustn't say _no_ to her, not outright, even if she proposes something dreadful. All one needs to do is nod." She pressed her cheek to Lavellan's temple, and Leliana saw Cullen's eyebrows rise. Josephine was not physically affectionate. _Yes, your instincts are right,_ Leliana ached to say, _something is very wrong here._ "I know you'll be wonderful, your Worship," Josephine continued. "You will lay the groundwork tonight, and I will do the rest tomorrow, once you've made Celene love you."

Leliana felt ill. This was what Josephine did best—what Leliana had been taught to do best, too, and had fought against every day since she'd escaped Marjolaine. To persuade someone to their ruin, and make them believe it was the ideal course of action. Once, Leliana had gloried in it. Josephine still did. And… Celene was implacable, and they could not do this without Orlais's support...

"I'll do my best!" Lavellan said, with a brilliant grin at the three of them. "I'll make you proud, Josie." 

\- - -

One of Celene's handmaiden's came to collect Lavellan at the second bell. 

"What's this all about, then?" Cullen asked, when the door was firmly shut behind Lavellan and the clack of the handmaiden's steps were out of their hearing. 

"Celene is very partial to elves," Josephine said, swallowing hard. 

"Is she?" Cullen asked.

"The Inquisitor bears a remarkable resemblance to Briala."

"A passing resemblance, at best."

"And Briala… was Celene's lover."

"She means to say," Leliana cut in, "that Celene wishes to have the Inquisitor in her bed tonight, and will not take no for an answer."

This took a moment to sink in. Leliana saw the flush rise up Cullen's neck and suffuse his face. 

"So you sent her off like—like a lamb to the slaughter!" Cullen shouted. Never mind that Leliana had also not spoken against it. 

"If there had been any other way, Commander!" Josephine said. "I have dealt with Celene's moods for years. I know when she cannot be moved."

And so on and so forth. As Leliana's fellow advisors argued themselves into exhaustion, Celene would be circling around the Inquisitor, telling her how pretty and clever she was. She would be offering her a drink, perhaps, and perhaps it would be drugged. Lavellan did not imbibe; Celene would insist. Determined to _make them proud,_ she would relent and drink. She would drink too much. The empress in deshabille, offering to help the Inquisitor out of her heavy uniform coat. The Inquisitor, frozen at the feeling of a hand on her breast, desperate not to offend. 

Josephine was saying, "As though we do not all know what happened in the Gallows! On your watch! Do you know how much time I spend explaining your negligence away—"

Cullen had edged into her personal space, and was using every inch of height he had to loom over her. "And how many elven slaves did you grow up with," he said, "and call them servants—"

"Slaves?" Josephine hissed. "You take the Montilyets for slavers, Commander?" 

Leliana cleared her throat quietly. "If you two mean to do this now, please go to one of the bedrooms and do so," she said. "Where you cannot be overheard from the hallway. I am the one who will care for the Inquisitor when she returns."

They stopped speaking only long enough to glance at Leliana, and then Josephine took Cullen by the sleeve to drag him off into her room. 

And so Leliana was alone. Perhaps now the empress would have the Inquisitor's face buried in her cunt. Perhaps the Inquisitor, drugged and helpless, would be crying silently. 

Leliana was the best qualified for the task of comforting her, really. Her rapes had been at the hands of Lady Cecilie's guests, powerful people. But for their host's kindness and loneliness Leliana would have been nothing but an uncommonly tall, gawky scullery girl. Marjolaine had murdered them all, at her behest. She could do no such thing for the Inquisitor, but she could tell her: _It will be all right. You are brave. Your body is bruised, but your mind will recover. You've done the Inquisition a great service tonight._

It was an hour later, when she heard the gentle rap at the door. Cullen and Josephine were still shouting at one another—they had moved on to arguing about the budget, what they had spent on this trip to the Winter Palace—and did not come out to attend to it. 

The handmaid was already gone by the time Leliana made it to the door. The Inquisitor looked very small and crumpled as Leliana pulled her into their chambers, though her uniform was perfectly uncreased, and someone had taken the time to fix her hair before parading her through the halls. Perhaps it had even been Celene herself. 

"Leliana," the Inquisitor said, her voice shaking, just short of a sob. 

"I know," said Leliana. She sat on the golden armchair and bade the Inquisitor sit on her knee, but the Inquisitor only stood before her. "Tell me what happened."

"I..." The Inquisitor faltered, and began removing her gloves, her jacket, and throwing them on the table. "I think she liked me," she said, at last. "She gave me a glass of wine. When it was over, she wanted to talk about concessions. I didn't know what she meant, it's all Josie, but she said something about the Sun Order? And coin. Lots of coin. And help with the Emprise. Those… those Red Templars, at Sahrnia. We haven't cleared them out, not yet."

 _L'ordre du Soleil._ Maker. They were more than chevaliers. They were Celene's vanguard troops, her siege-breakers, living legends, Orlais's greatest daughters and sons. She must have been well pleased with the Inquisitor in her bed, if she'd offered them up. "You did very well," Leliana said. "Josie will be proud." 

It was only at this that the Inquisitor burst into tears, into great, wracking, quiet sobs, and Leliana opened her arms. 

As Leliana ran a hand up and down the Inquisitor's back and through her soft, dark hair, she was thinking:

The Inquisitor was horribly expensive to maintain as an asset. She was charming in her own way, but she had no use in a war, beyond staying behind a vanguard of companions and templars and closing rifts. But whatever she had done to Celene had been enough to secure Orlais's dogs of war for the Inquisition. That... that could be useful.

It was a dishonorable thought. It was unworthy of her. She had tried for years to be better than her worst impulses. 

"Tell me what she did to you," Leliana said, and held the Inquisitor close. 

The Inquisitor sniffled and tried to pull herself back together. Pathetic. "She put her hand on my back," she said. "Then she put her hand on my leg." 

Leliana put her hand on the Inquisitor's thigh and drew a long, slow circle on it with her thumb. She was not, it seemed, better than her worst impulses. "Did she?" 

"And—and she told me how she'd seen me do so well tonight," the Inquisitor babbled. "She said the Game was dangerous, and I navigated it perfectly. Like a master." 

All Josephine's coaching. Josephine's words in the Inquisitor's mouth. So much effort in training the poor girl, the best dancing masters, the best diction tutors to get the aravel out of her speech, so much _money_ , for a ten minute performance. "And then?" Leliana asked, and squeezed her thigh. "After her hand?" 

"My trousers," said the Inquisitor. "She told me to undo them. And then she put her hand on me. Sister, I've had sex before, I'm not a fool, I knew what she wanted from me, but it was just awful—she's the Empress, and I'm just a mage, second to the Keeper, not even First, I'm nobody—" 

"Hush," Leliana said firmly, and drew back long enough to undo the Inquisitor's trousers. Her mouth was dry, but there was a terrible thrill in this, how the Inquisitor's blank, uncomprehending eyes watched her hands. "You're Andraste's Herald. You did very well for your Inquisition. You know that, don't you? How many thousands of people were counting on you? " 

The Inquisitor did not react. Leliana bent over to undo the Inquisitor's boots, which had only been half-laced, and helped her step out of them. The Inquisitor allowed herself to be moved like a doll, stiffly, mutely. "Not just our soldiers," Leliana went on. "Our cooks. Our clerks. Our messengers. They will all be safer, because you did this thing, and did it well." 

Finally, a nod. A slim, slight motion. The girl had withdrawn into herself, was building walls to keep the experience out. "Tell me what else she did to you," Leliana said sharply, like a slap. In the room behind her, Josephine and Cullen were still shouting. There was the sound of something expensive shattering—that would be Josephine, in a rare true temper—and the Inquisitor flinched. " _Tell_ me," Leliana repeated, taking the Inquisitor by the chin and forcing her to meet her gaze. 

"She wanted me to be naked in front of her," the Inquisitor said, her voice and face stark. She shifted from foot to bare foot. They had persuaded her to wear boots, but never socks. "She said that she liked the look of me. That I looked, that I felt... fresh. That she wanted to see how badly I wanted to cement the Inquisition's new friendship with Orlais. And then she opened up her robes."

Leliana ran her hand up the Inquisitor's flank, as Celene might have. Her hand came to rest on one of her small breasts, and the Inquisitor looked as though she wanted to cry again. But she did not argue or fight, as she surely had not with Celene. 

_Good,_ Leliana thought, running her thumb over one of the Inquisitor's nipples, feeling the Inquisitor's shiver wrack her little body. _Use this. Break her to the wheel. She can be useful, for once._

"And then?" Leliana asked. Something else broke in the room behind them, and Cullen bellowed something indistinct. The Inquisitor closed her eyes against it, and against the feel of Leliana's mouth, sucking at her through the fabric. Her hands went to Leliana's shoulders, as though she meant to push her away.

"I got on my knees," the Inquisitor said. "And I—I—"

"Did what you had to do, for your Inquisition," Leliana finished for her. "And now I will reward you."

"No!" The Inquisitor found it in herself push at Leliana. "No! Please, I don't want this--" 

In one smooth movement, Leliana pulled the Inquisitor's trousers down her legs, to pool at her ankles. She was not wearing anything beneath them. Celene, Leliana realized, must have kept her smallclothes. "It does not matter what you want," she hissed, holding the girl's chin once more, in a bruising grip, and forcing the Inquisitor to look into her eyes. "It it does not matter what any of us want. It matters what you _must do_. Do you understand?" 

Nothing. Then, the most minuscule of whimpers, hardly an exhale. Leliana thrilled to it, and helped the Inquisitor out of her trousers, one leg at a time. She stood, towering over her, then lay her down on the soft, plush carpet, half-kicking her legs from under her as they went. 

Elves were hairless between their legs. The Inquisitor's breasts were high and firm, and her belly taut, but with more of her ribs visible than Leliana preferred. She pulled a knife from her boot and cut the Inquisitor's undershirt open, slowly and deliberately, and the Inquisitor lay limp and stared up at her in a blind, doe-like horror.

The pulse between Leliana's legs was throbbing, as she cut. She was a villain, but she was not this sort of villain, or so she had thought, but now she understood the appeal. A helpless girl, splayed out beneath her, too frightened to move, or whimper, or cry. This had been what Cecilie's guests had seen in her, so many years ago. Leliana knelt over her Inquisitor and kissed the tender underside of one of her breasts, and felt the tremor in the poor girl's body. It was electric. She moved her lips upward, to one of her sweet, brown nipples, and latched her mouth to it, sucking violently, until the Inquisitor's hands went to the back of her head. But she only moved to the Inquisitor's other breast, until it was sore and the Inquisitor cried out in anguish. 

"Inquisitor," Leliana said, resting her the point of her chin on the Inquisitor's sternum. "I am rewarding you. Enjoy this." She ducked her head and kissed the Inquisitor's flat belly, the unsightly protrusion of her ribs, then moved down, to her bellybutton. Leliana lingered there, gazing up at the Inquisitor's terrified face, enjoying the moment of suspense. 

"Stop," the Inquisitor said weakly, pushing at Leliana's head. Her eyes were full of tears now, her lower lip wobbling pathetically. Leliana did not care. In a smooth motion, as she would a lover, she hitched one of the Inquisitor's legs up over her shoulder and set her mouth to the girl's cunt. 

To Leliana's tongue the Inquisitor's juices tasted bitter, but to her credit, she did not cry out. She was not wet, either; she was tight, too, and Leliana had to work a finger into her passageway painstakingly, with only her own saliva to ease her way in. Celene had not touched the Inquisitor here—of course not, Celene would have no interest in pleasuring a supplicant.

"You like this," Leliana murmured, sawing that finger in and out of her ungently, propping herself up on an elbow to watch the Inquisitor's face contort with tears. "Where did you learn to service an empress, hmm? Was it someone from your clan? Or was it after the Conclave, with a soldier who didn't know your face? " The Inquisitor's sudden stillness, the way she bit her lip, told Leliana that she had struck on the truth. "Of course it was. You're a pretty thing, I'm sure you'd be popular in the tavern. Do you ever wonder if they remember the little elf they fucked, or if they've forgotten you entirely?" 

The only response was the Inquisitor's juddering breaths, as her slender little hands scrabbled at Leliana's rougher, stronger one. Casually, Leliana plucked them away and set them at her sides. "None of that," Leliana said. "Lay back and take your reward."

The Inquisitor's cunt was still dry as a bone, and she tried to shrink into herself under Leliana's gaze, her eyes going far away. Leliana would not let her, and she slapped the inside of the Inquisitor's thigh, bringing her back to the world. 

She lowered her mouth to the Inquisitor's sweet folds and licked a long, slow stripe from her cunt to her clit, and stayed there, sucking, circling, trying to see what the girl liked. The Inquisitor's hips jerked, and she moved reluctantly against Leliana's hand. Her passage, slowly, incrementally, grew wetter. Self-defense, one supposed, but no matter; Leliana added another finger, and another, crooking them upward cruelly to find the spot inside of her that would shatter her to pieces, for Leliana to rebuild later. 

And it was delightful when the Inquisitor keened and reached for the top of Leliana's head, grabbing her hair and pulling her closer. Leliana obliged her. This was a reward, after all. Her own body was thrumming with want, and she rubbed her thighs together. What she wanted could wait.

The Inquisitor came, bowstring-taut, biting at the back of her hand to keep from crying out. Leliana felt an ugly twist of satisfaction at the sound of it and continued, wringing a second and then a third orgasm from the girl, feeling her little cunt tighten more weakly around her each time she found her release. 

And so Leliana sat back, watching the Inquisitor: half-dressed, chest heaving, face damp with sweat, eyes damp with tears. Maker, but she could become used to this. The dull throb between her thighs was still there. She was considering how best to address it—sit on the Inquisitor's face? Have the Inquisitor kneel before her?--when the sound of Josephine and Cullen's arguing grew louder and more near.

"You are completely intolerable," Josephine was saying to Cullen as she burst from her bedchamber. 

Cullen, following close on her heels, replied, " _I'm_ intolerable? The disrespect you've shown me tonight—"

The two of them stopped in the doorway as one, gawping at the sight of Leliana and the Inquisitor. Leliana made a show of wiping her mouth with the back of her free hand. 

"Our Herald did so well for us," she said before either of them recovered their tongues, still working the Inquisitor on her fingers. The Inquisitor had stopped openly weeping, but her chest was still heaving with sobs. "Did you know? She secured L'ordre du Soleil for you, Commander. Josephine will hardly have to do anything tomorrow when she talks to Celene." 

Josephine and Cullen stood there for a long moment more, and it was Cullen who said: "This isn't right, and yet you—"

"Don't pretend you haven't wished she was a bit more useful," Leliana said. "We can put her to work in other ways, when she isn't closing rifts."

"You would make the three of us nothing but common pimps," Josephine said, her voice shrill. "The Inquisition stands for—"

"Don't pretend you've ever had a care for the righteousness of our cause," Cullen muttered darkly. "L'ordre du Soleil, you say? At my disposal?" 

"The very one," Leliana said. She left the Inquisitor on the floor and moved to sit on the chaise, so that she might watch the show. Cullen was on occasion a man of sense, she thought. Or, judging by the fixed way he was staring at the Inquisitor's rumpled, trembling form, he wanted a turn at her next. 

"We cannot," said Josephine. "We'll be found out. It's too much of a risk to our reputation."

"Of course you're only worried about being found out. You should have thought about that before you sent the Inquisitor off to Celene's bedchamber," said Cullen. Josephine glared up at him. "If you hadn't agreed to this mad bargain, Sister Leliana would never have gotten this idea into her head."

"Perhaps we should table the issue," Leliana said, flicking a piece of imaginary lint from her jacket. "Revisit it on the morrow. We've all had a very long evening. The Game does wear on one so." 

"No!" said Josephine. "Under no circumstances will we—will we whore the Herald of Andraste out to those with enough coin to buy her—" 

"Whore her out again, you mean," Cullen interrupted. 

Neither Josephine nor Cullen was much interested in the Inquisitor's opinion, it seemed, and the Inquisitor stared emptily up at the beautifully plastered ceiling as they argued about how they should dispose, or not dispose, of her virtue. Leliana let them continue in this vein for a time, until she was bored with their endless recriminations. 

"Enough of this," she said, standing up and clapping her hands. The two of them nearly startled, so focused they'd been on their argument. "Commander, you are surely sick of good soldiers dying over a foolish little girl with a hole in her hand. Josephine, she costs a fortune to maintain. So long as we're saddled with her, we may as well earn a return on our investment, yes?" 

At Leliana's feet, the Inquisitor started weeping openly again. The poor, pitiful thing, hearing of herself spoken of as a piece of unwanted baggage, after she'd gone through so much tonight. It had started in a triumph to be spoken of across all Thedas and ended in her rape, twice-over. Josephine had the grace to seem distraught at the sound of the Inquisitor's sobs. Cullen, however, was clearly used to the sound of young mages crying. Something changed in his face: his eyes went flat, and his mouth set into a grim line. It would have been more disturbing if Leliana had not seen Kirkwall's Circle with her own two eyes. 

Leliana allowed her gaze to dip lower: Cullen was half-hard already, and stood stiffly. He _did_ want a go at the Inquisitor. That was useful.

"She's just a girl," Josephine said.

Harshly, Cullen said, "We ask girls younger than her to kill and die for us. What we'd be asking of the Herald is light work."

For once in her life, Josephine was plainly at a loss for words. She looked from Leliana, to Leliana's fingers, and back to Cullen, and never once at the Inquisitior.

"I think you've been outvoted, Josie," Leliana said, pulling out of the Inquisitor and wiping her hand briskly off on the girl's thigh. "Commander, do give our Inquisitor another reward for a job well done tonight." 

Cullen needed no further encouragement. He dropped to his knees between the Inquisitor's legs and set about removing the rest of her clothing, moving her about like a ragdoll, until she was fully nude before her three advisors. In truth, Leliana had never found the Inquisitor particularly attractive, but she could see the appeal for someone like Cullen: she was small, and had a very pretty mouth, and gave off an air of innocence even as Cullen thrust two fingers into her sopping cunt. 

Having recovered senses, Josephine edged around the Inquisitor and Cullen as though she was going to excuse herself. Leliana had no intention of letting her go so easily. She took Josephine by the wrist and dragged her down into her lap, putting an arm around her middle to hold her fast, even as Josephine protested, but, wisely, did not struggle.

"I cannot believe you," Josephine squeaked, watching Cullen work a third finger into the Inquisitor, then a fourth, stretching her out obscenely. "Leliana, we both know this is madness—"

" _You_ did this, Josie," Leliana murmured into Josephine's ear. She held Josephine's neck lightly and slid her fingers up to her chin to hold her in place, make her watch. Josephine's pulse fluttered under her fingers like a trapped bird, but she did not fight Leliana's grip. "Tell me, how many people asked to fuck the Herald of Andraste," Leliana asked, "before you yielded to Celene?" 

Josephine swallowed hard. Leliana undid the first button of her uniform, then the second, feeling the smooth skin of her throat and chest with her free hand. "Leliana, don't," Josephine said, her hands clenched into fists at her side. 

"Tell me," Leliana said. 

"Too many," Josephine sighed, her body sagging into Leliana's. She let her head fall back against Leliana's shoulder in a parody of affection; Leliana would have found it sweet, if it weren't so plainly fake. She undid the final button and peeled the jacket open, and pulled the fine linen shirt underneath up to expose her underclothes. "'She's just an elf,' they say to me," Josephine continued, shakily now, as Leliana unlaced the front of her short corset. 

With a soft, satisfying noise, the corset sagged open, and Leliana peeled it off of her, tossed it on the ground. At the sound of its impact, Cullen glanced up at the two of them from where he was positively mauling the Inquisitor's breasts with his mouth and teeth, and he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. 

"Don't gawk, Commander, you'll get nothing done," Leliana said, as she spread Josephine's cunt with one hand and slid two fingers of the other into Josephine's mouth. Josephine accepted them reluctantly and sucked, as Cullen spread the Inquisitor's legs and ducked his head between them, licking eagerly at her, gripping her thighs so tightly there would assuredly be bruises in the morning. There were already angry red bitemarks rising on her chest and over her stomach.

Watching the scene play out before them, Josephine squirmed in Leliana's lap as Leliana ran her fingers through her folds, up to her bare breasts, tweaking her nipples gently, never lingering long enough on her clit to give her any satisfaction. Every once in a while, Cullen looked up at the two of them and groaned at the sight of Josephine spread open before him before turning his attention back to the Inquisitor. Once again, he had two broad, rough fingers inside of her, and the Inquisitor moaned and worked herself shamelessly on them, chasing her orgasm. 

When the Inquisitor came with a shout, Josephine sucked hard at Leliana's fingers and tried to grind herself against her hand; Leliana withdrew her touch. Josephine did not deserve to come, not yet. 

On the floor, Cullen sat back on his heels, sliding his cock through the Inquisitor's sopping folds, not yet entering her. The Inquisitor looked terrified, transfixed on the organ between her legs, and with good reason, Leliana supposed: Cullen was thick as well as long, and the girl was so very small. 

"Save it, Commander. We want to at least pretend the next nobleman to ask to fuck her is our Herald's first cock," Leliana said.

Cullen came away from the Inquisitor only very reluctantly and got to his feet as if in a daze, with a lingering glance over her body, her flushed skin, her mussed hair. He squeezed at the base of his ruddy cock tightly and looked a bit lost, and so Leliana decided to have pity on him. He'd lost good soldiers tonight, after all. 

She stroked Josephine's hair once, not unaffectionately, then gave her a little shove from her lap, and enjoyed her little stumble as she fell into Cullen's arms. "Have Josephine instead," she said.

The Inquisitor rolled onto her side on the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"Go to bed, Inquisitor," said Leliana. "You've done well. We can discuss this tomorrow."

Painstakingly, the Inquisitor stood. She fixed Leliana with a look of the deepest, most dismal hurt imaginable; Leliana waved her aside, as the girl was blocking her view of whatever Cullen was doing to Josephine.

As it turned out, he was kissing her, or trying to. Josephine had given up all pretense of compliance and fought tooth and nail to get out of his grasp, while he held her around the waist, crushing her to his body, to his hard cock. Truly, it would be better for the two of them to work it out here at Halamshiral than to take their animosity back to Skyhold with them. 

And so Leliana watched as Cullen lay her ungently on the ground beneath him. Josephine made him earn every inch of it, clawing at the pale skin of his shoulders, his chest, kicking anything she could reach. But she was soft and weak, and it was a simple matter for Cullen to take both of her wrists in one of his, pinion them over her head, and settle himself between her thighs. He pressed one more kiss to Josephine's unwilling mouth. To Leliana's exquisite surprise, Josephine spat in his face. 

"Don't look at me," said Leliana, when Cullen glanced up at her in surprise. "Is she wet?"

Cullen had to shift positions and hold her down with an arm across her chest in order to force his hand between her legs, for all her thrashing. "As the Waking Sea," he said, and at the sound of Leliana's laugh, Josephine looked furious at both of them.

"Get on with it, then," Leliana replied, her voice level, even as she enjoyed the sight of Josephine's flushed cheeks. If Marjolaine could see her now--Marjolaine would deplore her methods, Marjolaine, the knife in the dark. If Justinia could see her... well, the Inquisition was Leliana's now.

"Sweet Maker, I've thought about this," Cullen said to Josephine. He straddled her chest, pinning her arms to her sides with his legs. The head of cock, shiny with pre-come and the Inquisitor's fluids, brushed against her lips, and Josephine clamped her jaw against the insult; he pinched her nose shut until she gasped for air and shoved it in her mouth anyway. "If you bite me," Cullen snarled, voice heavy with lust, and left the threat at that. Josephine, ever-practical, lapsed into an angry silence.

She lay passively and allowed her mouth to be used, choking and coughing around his cock whenever he thrust too deeply into her throat. There were tears, too, running down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. Leliana sat, trying to enjoy the sight dispassionately, her very dearest friend treated by their respected colleague as nothing more than a hole, but the throbbing between her legs was undeniable. For the moment, she could bear it. She wanted to see what the two of them would do. But there was no reason not to avail herself of Josephine when the time came.

With no fanfare, Cullen pulled out of Josephine's mouth. By this point, all of the fight had quite gone out of her, and she lay staring up at the ceiling. As Cullen sat back on his heels to look down at her, she wiped the spit from her mouth with the back of her hand. She wiped her eyes, too. The two of them stared at one another in an eerie stillness, the air between them charged and heavy like the wind before a storm, and Leliana had the sense that they had forgotten her entirely. Josephine sat up, took a deep breath, and—Leliana only saw her fist ball up a moment before it happened—hit Cullen square across the jaw.

It was, in truth, an excellent punch, but not a very strong one. Cullen's head snapped to the side more from surprise than from pain. Josephine cradled her hand more in pain than in regret. With exquisite slowness, then, Cullen lay himself over her, his weight resting politely on one arm, and pressed soft, gentle kisses to her abused face: her eyelids, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her chin. Josephine shuddered beneath him and pressed a hand to the back of his head. Was it real affection, Leliana wondered, or was she going along with Cullen's affections—and they were affections—because it was preferable to being pinned to the ground and having her mouth fucked?

Cullen parted Josephine's legs with a gentle touch. He thrust into her slowly, with a deep groan, his face pressed into the side of her neck. He stayed there, fully sheathed inside her, trembling in the grips of some strong, genuine emotion.

And Josephine played the part. She shoved her hips against his impatiently, she clutched at his broad, scarred back, tugged his hair, she cried out when his hand came down between her legs to play with her there. 

Finally, at the sight of this, of Josephine coming undone beneath Cullen, it became too much to bear. The sight of the two of them, their limbs entwined--Leliana undid the top button of her uniform, which she only now realized was still fully done up.

"Cullen," she said sharply. He did not pause in driving into Josephine, but he did glance at Leliana sidelong. The motion caused a bead of sweat to fall from his forehead to her chest. "I'm going to use her mouth. Turn her over."

He was too far gone to argue with her, and as Leliana hastily removed her trousers and sat back down on the chaise, Cullen maneuvered Josephine's limp, unresisting body so that he could fuck her in the Ferelden style, from behind. Josephine seemed to rouse herself, and braced her forearms on either side of Leliana's thighs. 

"We could use her this way, too," Cullen said, his voice thick as he rubbed his cock against Josephine. "Chief diplomat." He smoothed a hand over Josephine's back, then around her front, to squeeze one of her heavy breasts in his rough palm; whatever he was doing down there, Josephine's back arched into his touch.

Leliana stroked Josephine's sweaty, loose hairs from back from her face, and Josephine pressed her cheek into Leliana's thigh and trembled, a silent plea. "The idea has merit. We can discuss it in the morning," she said, as Cullen pushed unceremoniously into Josephine from behind.

Josephine cried out in surprise and betrayal and looked up at Leliana, distress plain on her face. Leliana seized the opportunity to press Josephine's face into her. Josephine, for her part, lapped at Leliana's cunt without prompting. She was good at this. She was beyond good, and didn't miss a beat, even when Cullen leaned over her and thrust into her harder, so that the sound of their hips slapping against each other filled the room. 

"Maker, Josie," Leliana said, letting her head tilt back, tangling her hand in Josephine's hair to hold her still. "I knew you'd played at being a bard, but not this sort of bard."

Josephine whimpered and cried out against her, and whether it was from Leliana's words or Cullen's exertions, Leliana did not much care. Josephine licked her in hard, broad circles, sucked Leliana's clit into her mouth, her small, ringed fingers clenched into fists. Leliana ground herself into Josephine's face, hips working furiously as she chased that one last stroke of the tongue that would send her falling to pieces. 

Meanwhile, Cullen leaned over to whisper Leliana could not make out something in Josephine's ear, to squeeze her throat. Josephine shuddered, and then she put the whole of her mouth on Leliana and sucked, hard, and suddenly, like stones falling from a mountain, Leliana came undone. She fell back, legs spread, holding a fistful of Josephine's hair, as Josephine worked her through it, licking and sucking until Leliana was sure her jaw ached. 

No matter. It was a golden feeling. It wrung her out and left her warm and blissful. In her haze, she could not think of a reason why she hadn't fucked Josephine all these long years of friendship. No, under no circumstances would they be sharing her. The was sure Cullen, who had hardly noticed Leliana's climax as he chased his own, would agree. The idea of _they_ was something the three of them could discuss in the morning.

And once Leliana came down, the sight of Josephine being fucked no longer held any interest for her. It was always so for her: once the act was finished, it was finished. For another partner, she would have pretended that that candle had not been blown out, but neither of them were much interested in her at this point. She extricated herself from the two of them. As she did so, Cullen only redoubled his efforts, his hand reaching down between Josephine's legs to play at her clit. Josephine whimpered and grasped at the fabric of the chaise, eyes screwed shut and face contorted.

Leliana straightened her clothes, watching dispassionately as Josephine came with a gasp and a sob, her knees falling out from beneath her, her body held up only by Cullen's arm around her soft middle. Cullen groaned, and his hips pumped twice as he came inside of her. Josephine cried out in mingled disgust and dismay. 

"Good night," Leliana said, yawning as she watched them. It had been a long and trying day, and tomorrow would be longer and more trying. There would be the Inquisitor's feelings to soothe, negotiations with Celene's people for the fulfillment of promises made post-coitus, and so on, and so forth. Judging by the way Cullen had not yet pulled out of Josephine and was instead toying gently with her arsehole with his thumb, neither of them were going to sleep much tonight, and would therefore not be much help in the morning. 

Thus did the burdens of power lay heavy on Leliana's shoulders; she took herself off to bed, the better to bear them in the morning.


End file.
